


The Flames Went Higher

by anoceanmonster



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Community: bandom_meme, M/M, Student/Teacher, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoceanmonster/pseuds/anoceanmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First struck by Gerard’s short cut, fire engine red hair, which barely landed on the right side of what was acceptable for faculty, it didn’t take Frank long to find out exactly why the colour suited him so well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flames Went Higher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/gifts).



> This is my fill for [this prompt](http://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/8793.html?thread=393561#cmt393561) in Bandom_Meme, left by akamine_chan. Hope you enjoy it :)

“It’s just one more month, Frank.”

Frank fiddles with his tie, sighs and stares back out at his miserable little town in it’s cloud of judgmental grey bleakness. He’s right. He’s always right. It _is_ just one more month, and by rights Frank should be moon walking out of the school gates every day after achieving the grades that, twelve months ago, they told him were impossible. 

-

It was all because of Gerard, the twenty-eight year old head of all performance art departments at Queen of Peace High School. He’d had Frank’s undivided attention since day one of senior year when Frank had been pressured in to extra _less demanding_ (as the ass-hole of a vice principle had put it) classes. First struck by Gerard’s short cut, fire engine red hair, which barely landed on the right side of what was acceptable for faculty, it didn’t take Frank long to find out exactly why the colour suited him so well. He was passionate. He was driven and out there, talented and just plain _fiery_ in whatever he was doing. 

But most of all, he believed in Frank and he made Frank believe in himself. 

For six months they talked, about everything two people could ever talk about. Frank signed up to art class after art class, auditioned for play after play just to be near him and, though the realisation that he was falling in love with a teacher floored him like a heart attack, what surprised Frank most was how free he was starting to feel. He was expressing himself, pouring all the feelings he kept tight in his chest in to something other than his guitar behind a locked bedroom door. He was letting go, getting it all out and other people could see it too – and they _liked_ it. And, furthermore, Frank was actually really good at it. 

Not so much the art. In art classes he always ended up just doodling little vampire bunnies feasting on a zombie lettuce (or some other variation of vampire something eating zombie something – or vice versa). Gerard would shake his head and laugh, a sound that made Frank want to grab him by the face and kiss the crap out of him, before perching himself on Frank’s desk and talking about possible future play ideas. 

No, not so much the art…but Frank was actually pretty good at _acting_. His mother wasn’t overly surprised, she just smirked and told Frank he’d always been a dramatic child – and when Frank had told this to Gerard he’d thrown his head back and laughed so loud it toppled Frank over the edge of _falling in love_ to _completely head over heels_. 

Because Gerard was kind and sweet and funny and sexy as hell. The way he held presence over every person in a room without ever having to put anyone down was fascinating and completely unheard of in this school. Most of Frank’s teachers were strict and patronising, relishing in any opportunity to assert their authority over students – but not Gerard. He led groups boldly and moulded amateurs in to actors, able to pick out the most talented students with nothing more than a once over glance. 

Frank was more than astonished when Gerard cast him as the lead part in _Grease_ when he hadn’t even auditioned for it. He’d auditioned for a lesser role, but when his eyes found his name at the top of the cast list sheet his heart leapt in to his mouth. 

“Are you kidding me? You fit the part of Danny Zuko _perfectly!_ ” Gerard had said when Frank went to ask him _why?_. 

“I don’t get it. He’s a lead part, I mean…I know I’m good, I’ve gotten tonnes better, but not _lead_ better!” 

“It’s not about being the lead,” Gerard explained. “It’s about fitting the character, and you do. You’re ambitious and charismatic and cheeky,” he talked with his hands, as he always did, eyes intense as he spoke like you could carve his words in to stone and he would always believe them. “What I’m basically saying is that you’re a little shit with a heart of gold, and you are _my_ Danny Zuko.” 

Frank’s pretty sure what Gerard meant to say was “You are my _choice_ for Danny Zuko” but the way he said it, with such conviction, made it feel like he wanted Frank to be his just as much as Frank did. 

And that’s when Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped out of all the arts classes as well as the musical. 

For two weeks he managed to hide from Gerard, ducking in to empty class rooms and hiding behind taller students whenever he caught a glimpse of him, or anyone who looked like him. It was, to put it plainly, a living hell. His parents kept on asking too many questions, the friends he’d made were confused and distant, and, without his outlet, two weeks of teenage pining started clogging up Frank’s chest. So he went to the one place he knew he could find at least a little slice of peace. 

Ray’s music shop was tiny and hidden and packed to the rafters with the best CDs. Frank slipped in one Thursday evening and hid himself in the back, out of view of the register and the rest of the store in the little boxed in corner marked _Vintage Punk_ in Ray’s scrawled handwriting. 

The next time the shop door opened it was maybe an hour later. Frank had lost track of time reading track titles and lyrics, thank you notes that he could recite from heart by now. 

“Hey, Toro. What’s shakin’?” Frank froze. 

“Gee, what’s up?” 

Heart in his throat Frank inched his way closer to the mouth of his corner, peering between the wall and a rack of pin badges. There he was, in a leather jacket and well worn jeans, leaning on the counter and smiling at Ray. Frank twinged with jealousy. He missed that smile, missed being the cause of it. 

“Oh, you know…came to drown my sorrows in reasonably priced music, the usual.” 

“Still hung up on that guy, huh?”

Clumps of raw emotion rose in Frank’s throat so fast it almost made him dry heave. Guy? A _guy_ , he _was_ gay! That was half the battle won. On the other hand there was a guy, probably some sophisticated screen writer or cinematic visionary who wore ugly long scarves and hung out in coffee shops. Frank could almost see him, smiling and laughing at Gerard’s senseless jokes and talking about possible play ideas. 

Gerard shrugged. “I guess.”

“You need closure, dude,” Ray said and Frank almost nodded along with him. _Yes, yes! Forget about this hipster loser! You don’t need him! Not like you need me…_

“Sure,” Gerard laughed mockingly. “I’ll just call him up and say ‘Hey, man. I know you’ve basically cut me out of your life but I just wanted you to know that I think you’re really amazing and I would love to take you out on a date, maybe to the movies to laugh at the modern day’s crap ass attempt at horror but - _uh oh_ , its an R rated movie and you’re probably going to get carded because you just turned eighteen. Not to mention that us being seen together would cost me my job and, in this town, the ability to walk down the street without being pelted by rotting fruit because not only are you a dude, _dude_ , you are – you were, my STUDENT.’”

The force of Frank’s emotional dry heave sent him toppling forward in to the display of pins, knocking the whole thing down with one loud bang, causing the men he was spying on to spin round and gawp silently at him until the only sound left was the pitter patter of raining badges. 

“Oops,” Frank said, for lack of a better word. 

“Frank,” Gerard barely said, startled and pale. 

“You know Frank?” Ray chimed in obliviously before the pieces in the room started slowly slotting together. Ray’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “ _Oh_.” 

As the air between them filled with awkward silence, Frank once again felt intensely ill. 

“Well…” Ray finally said, leaning over a stack of CDs to flip the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’ on the window. “I haven’t checked out my taxes in like, _forever_. So I’m just gonna go in the back and do that.” And then he left.

As soon as the back door clicked shut Gerard let out a long, exasperated breath. “Frank. Frank, I am so sorry you heard that,” he said, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. Frank hadn’t seen it looking so bright since the first day they met. “That was really fucking inappropriate and probably really fucking creepy to hear, fuck, I’m so sorry. Please, you never have to come to practices or see me ever again just, please don’t say anything. I’m so sorry, I am _so_ fucking sorry-” 

“Will you just shut the fuck up!” Frank blurted, the volume surprising even himself and startling Gerard in to silence. He crossed the store quickly and Gerard stepped back. 

“You’re going to hit me,” he stated. Frank paused. “No, that’s completely fine. I deserve it. Go on, you can punch me.” 

Frank narrowed his eyes in to a glare and shook his head. “I can’t believe you are _ten_ years older than me and you still know shit,” he said before grabbing Gerard by the collar of his jacket and kissing the crap out of him – just like he’d always wanted to. 

What followed was five months of sneaking around and lying to his parents about sleeping over at a friend’s house. There were stolen kisses and messy fumbles, hidden away in cars covered by the darkness of night or in Gerard’s old apartment in town. And then one night two months ago, Frank fucked Gerard on his living room floor, his chest against Gerard’s back as they half bent over the edge of Gerard’s couch, knees digging so hard in to the carpet that it marked the skin for days after. The next morning Frank begged Gerard to finger him open and fuck him slowly, taking away any question of whether this whole thing was such a good idea. 

“Frank, I think I love you,” Gerard whispered, lips resting on Frank’s chest, still inside him as Frank tried to catch his breath. 

Frank closed his eyes, ran his fingers through Gerard’s fiery red hair and nodded. “I _know_ I do.”

-

“You look lost,” Gerard says, standing over Frank with his head tilted in contemplation. 

Frank smiles. “I’ve never been more found.” 

Gerard hums and drops beside Frank on the large, old chair and kisses him, open mouthed and desperate, just the way Frank likes it. He strokes his fingers down Frank’s red tie, kissing him until they’re both hard and gasping. Breaking the kiss Gerard trails his shiny wet lips down Frank’s shirt as he slinks gracefully to the floor. When those wet lips envelope his cock in one movement, Frank forces himself to keep his eyes open just to watch Gerard work. 

After, when they’re sticky and half naked, cold under the draft from the window but too comfortable to move, Frank runs his fingers through Gerard’s fiery red hair and nods to himself – because it is just one month. One more month until they’re _both_ free.


End file.
